


Pastoral Interlude

by Relurker



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Bears, Exquisite Corpse, Gen, Light-Hearted, Nonsense, Sheep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 23:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16438844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relurker/pseuds/Relurker
Summary: Spike and Buffy, briefly lost in the countryside.





	Pastoral Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> In 2017 there has been a highly entartaining surrealist outburst over at Elysian Fields... at least, it was a riot for us who partecipated. You can read the whole story at Elysian Fields: "A Most Exquisite Corpse by yellowb, sandy_s, relurker, acekoomboom, bewildered, Rezol87, Sunalso, Cohava, OffYourBird. The MC-Yellowb- wrote the opening and closing chapters, then each one of us got one little bit from the end of the previous chapter and had to blindly write the next part. This is my chapter and I love it, so don't diss it!

 

**Pastoral Interlude**

By relurker

 

“And  _this_ ,” he said, glaring at Willow’s apologetic expression, “is why we don’t leave jars of magic dust laying around!”

So, while Willow was gloomily trying to put things back together, and muttering to herself about people that couldn’t pay attention to other people’s properties, Spike went for a smoke and some thinking. He wasn’t sulking, but very close to it. After a couple of minutes, he decided to acknowledge Buffy’s presence just at the edge of his perception. “Came to bum a fag? Not much else I have to spare right now.”

“Sure, why not?”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “So, there’s still something new I can make you try?”

“Don’t delude yourself. There’s tons of  _things_  I’ve done that you don’t know about. And save your cigarettes, I was just kidding.” She sat down next to the wide-eyed vampire, feeling just a tad smug at having shocked him so easily. “So,” she started, prepared for more shock to come, “did you wanna talk about it?”

He’d just taken in a big breath, no doubt to start a heartfelt tirade, when the ground shook once, twice, then tilted up, and they were sliding. Down and down and down they went, on a smooth, slightly giving surface, like they were on the longest water world slide on a dry day. Buffy had the weird impulse to check for shelves or jars around her, but they were surrounded by a funny swirling mist, thick enough that she couldn’t see further than Spike’s indignant face on her right side. On an impulse, she grabbed towards him and took hold of his arm before they could slide too far apart. Her action somehow broke the movement, and now they were tumbling and bumping, till finally, with a big hooomph, their fall was stopped against something big and fuzzy. “Ow! Spike, get off me!”

“Stop squirming, I’m stuck…here, you’re laying on my coat, move so I can stand—mind the elbow!”

“Grrrrr.”

“What?”

“GRRRRR! Aaargh!” said the big fuzzy thing.

“Houston, we have a problem,” said Spike, eyeing the bear which was now standing high above the mist and flapping his clawed forepaws in the air.

“ _Houston_? Are you completely out of your mind? Don’t just stand and stare at him, you’ll make it cranky, we have to run!”

“Cranky? Buffy, the beast is  _enraged_ , and everybody knows you can’t outrun a bear! Can—can’t you undo it?”

“I didn’t  _do_  it! Are you gonna blame every single bear on me? I think there’s a building down that way, we’re fast, let’s go for it —”

“Bugger running! Haven’t we run enough for a day?” Spike switched to vamp face and tried a novel approach, roaring at the bear. The bear roared back. Spike spread his arms opening his coat wide and roared some more. The creature dropped on all fours, and charged. So run they did, closely followed by 500 pounds of angry bear. They skipped and weaved between a flock of sheep who were peacefully sleeping in the meadow, and who started in fright, bleating and jumping and bumping in great confusion, till at the end of the grass slope our two intruders vaulted over the trimmed boxwood hedge that surrounded the small construction. “Right!” yelled Buffy, while Spike was calling “Left!” They split running to different sides, so that the bear for a minute was confused as to which of them to follow. As Buffy rounded her second corner, a whistle alerted her to grab Spike’s hand, extended from over the roof, and he pulled her up. “Darn it,” she gasped, “that was close! Do you think he’ll climb up here? Wherever here is.”

“Looks like a tool shed, love, straight up walls. I jumped to get on top.”

“Aren’t bears great climbers, too?”

“Who do you think I am, Jungle Jack Hanna? I just saw a National Geographic special or twelve about bears; daytime telly, so I was half asleep. I don’t think he can climb this wall, tho’. He’d be up already ’f he could.”

“That’s really reassuring Spike, thank you sooo very much.”

“You’re sooo very welcome.”

The big animal was circling the shed, grunting and snorting irritably, but it wasn’t acting like climbing was on his mind. The sheep had relocated at the farthest side of the foggy meadow and calmed down, though the lambs were still wailing piteously. Buffy was on her hands and knees trying to sneak a peek. “Let’s sit in the middle of the roof, maybe if he can’t see us, he’ll lose interest,” she whispered.

“Never worked for me,” he sighed, appraising her butt, “but let’s give it a try.”

The middle of the roof wasn’t actually very far from the edge, but luckily this wasn’t an imitation cottage, just a plain old boxy shaped tool shed, so at least they weren’t perched on a slope.

“I just have the two stakes on me, you?”

“Knife and a lighter.”

Buffy was troubled: “I’m not even sure what to do with him, far as we know he’s just a regular, innocent bear.”

“No such thing. The brute’s a killer.”

“But it’s a natural thing! For all we know, we happened to be between him—or—or—her, and the cubs, and it would be cruel and unjust to hurt her for heeding to a natural instinct.”

“Aha! Listen to Miss Righteous! Ain’t it natural then when I wish I could bite people? Two measures, Slayer, it’s all I’m saying.”

Buffy was  _not_  speechless. “ _Natural_ , I said, natural! How is a magically animated creature of the night natural, huh?”

“You’re forgettin’ something, sweetheart. We were just sitting there minding our own damn business when the  _ground_  failed us, and we fell on the weirdest slip-’n-slide to then bump on a bear in the suspicious mist … not, and I repeat,  _NOT_  natural.”

Buffy found herself smiling: pesky sitch apart, bickering with Spike was always entertaining … “Ok, you do have a point. We should find out what happened, where and why we’re here … couldn’t Giles have fallen down with us?”

Spike snorted. “Yeah, good luck with him helping you up the wall. Bright side, can’t hear the bear anymore, he’s either gone or sleeping.”

“Nope. Just very silent when I want to be. Why would I go to sleep right now? You two just woke me up, very rudely if I may say.” The grizzly was sitting upright on the corner of the roof, like a gigantic cookie jar. Our heroes had jumped up into a fighting stance with respectively a stake and a knife in their hands, but were totally flummoxed by the new state of affairs. Buffy went first: “So, you  _really_ aren’t a natural bear. What do you want? I won’t hurt you if I don’t have to.”

The bear grunted, and made a show of teeth. Buffy raised her stake higher and narrowed her eyes. The bear kind of slumped a bit, and scratched his ear vigorously with its four inches long claws. “Easy there, girl, why should anybody want to hurt somebody?”

“You were the one to go all ‘grrr, argh’ to start with.” He rolled his beady bear eyes scrolling his big head. “You two were the ones to hit me when I was having my nap! What did you do that for? I was dreaming about my honey …”

Buffy was sidetracked. “Wait, honey dreaming? Was it like  _your_   _honey_ , honey, or really just honey?”

The bear turned his muzzle toward Spike. “Is she … ok? You explain then. What did you mean to do, barreling into me, waking me up, growling at me in my own home.”

Spike was wanting a smoke very badly, but he still didn’t want to put away the knife. “Nothing wrong with the Slayer, you hear me? Good. Now listen, Yogy, we didn’t mean a thing with you, we just fell down. Slid down. Here. Pray tell us where ‘here’ is?”

“Boy, aren’t you humans a weird bunch. And it’s Pete.”

“What is Pete?”

“Me. I’m Pete, not Yogy. By the way; ha, ha. Never heard that one before. You two are in my place. You wanna go back to your place, you have to pay me first.”

Buffy was looking a bit bloodthirsty: “Pay you … it depends. Or we could just walk away, with or  _without_  your permission.”

“You should listen to the lady, mate. She doesn’t take well to threats.”

Pete was unfazed. “No threats, not my rules. The law states that you have to pay the token, for Pete’s sake. I’m Pete, so you pay me. You could try with the Piper, but he’s never around at this time of the year.”

“Which kind of token are we talking about?” said Spike, feeling very put upon.

Seeing as Buffy wasn’t carrying a purse, Pete turned his attention to Spike’s coat: “Oh, just a little something nice. Do you happen to have a jar of honey in there?” he asked hopefully.

Spike was emptying his pockets. “I have extra strong Red Hots …”

Pete shivered, no.

“Tootsie Rolls?”

“Those things will give you cavities. What is  _that_?”

Spike looked like he was eating lemons: “My Zippo?”

“No, not that, the other one!”

Between crumpled up bank notes, thickly scribbled papers, coins and an embarrassing amount of candies, there was a Bic lighter.

“Spike,” Buffy blinked, “why do you have a Hello Kitty lighter?”

“No sense in losing a Zippo if you just have to make something explode, right? Rajesh at the petrol station only had those when I went to buy a tank of the stuff.”

Buffy pursed her lips. Pete shuffled back a bit. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll take the Hello Kitty lighter.”

“Can you even work it without an opposable thumb?”

“It’s a collector’s item, you heathen. Using it lowers its value.”

“Right, then. Here’s your token, now where to for home?”

The bear was already going, but put down the lighter that he was holding delicately in his mouth to answer: “Something brought you here, not me. The token is just to let you continue on your way! Find out for yourself, bye!” And he took back up the little thing and  _ran_.

“Well, that was a bust,” said Spike, finally lighting up a cigarette. “Ideas?”

Buffy looked up at the twinkling stars. The mist had cleared completely. “The usual suspects. It has to be some kind of magic, a spell, or a hex. Something we triggered?”

“Let’s see ... I was smoking, all peaceful like, you came to me because you just. Can’t. Stay. Away.” (“Hey!”) “You teased me a bit … you said … that’s it!”

“What is?”

“You, my darling Buffy, my queen of denial, my I’d-rather-go-kill-something-big-and-slimy-instead, you said _…‘do you wanna talk about it,’_  that’s what you said! If it isn’t enough to jinx us…”

 


End file.
